Peep peep! were the cries of the youngest hatchling in the robin’s nest. The chick, feathers still littered with adolescent fluff, cried for its mother for the morning’s meal. The larger robin, a somewhat majestic bird, leaned down to her chick and opened her jaw. The chick eagerly pecked inside her gullet, devouring the prepared meal.
Each day the lingering chills of lukewarm wind in the spring morning had been slowly replaced by warmer, more refreshing summer air. The weather was continually scheduled to be clear each day, warming the soothing leafy atmosphere. A proud robin, mother of three chicks, watched with careful eyes as two younglings excitedly flew in circles. She felt as exhilarated as they did, experiencing the joy of flight and life itself.
The youngest chick, small since birth, gave a joyful chirp as it hopped out of the nest. Anxiety taking ahold of her, the mother wrapped her wing around the chick as it attempted to hop off the oak branch they resided on. She had realized the chick’s wings were too underdeveloped to fly after the chick’s first attempt, and had decided to shelter her baby until it was ready.
A wistful tweet escaped the chick’s beak as it looked up to its siblings in their flight, dreaming of one day joining them. A dream that was slowly fading as summer had hit full heat. If fall arrived before the chick could fly… it was a nightmare the mother feared would become a reality.
The mother, as a proper mother should, had attempted to teach her chicks proper flight technique since their hatching. The older siblings had a high aptitude with their longer wingspan and stronger muscles while the youngest struggled to hover. It had been a month since, and the mother robin was fearful for her child.
This fear did not fly above the chick, however. It ceased its chatter and sighed a wistful chirp as its siblings flew loops around each other. It was a dance: nature’s dance. A dance only shared by those gifted with the magic of flight. One it felt nothing but desperation for. Nothing would stop the chick from flying. Nothing.
The mother, once sure that her chick’s mischief was managed, hopped away to the next to warm the twigs. She tucked in her wings and snuggled inside, waiting for her chicks to finish their play and join her for a needed nap. The youngest, however, had other plans.
The chick watched its mother get comfortable and waited for her eyes to close. Once then, it turned around and stared at the ground. Everything downward seemed small, like the worms it had for breakfast. It would be a long fall. The chick gulped.
While mother was sleeping, and the siblings distracted, the chick threw all hesitation to the winds and leaped from the branch.
Wings stretched, talons tucked in, and chest tight as mother had taught it, the chick began to glide. Flight, to the chick, was exciting to say the least. No words described the emotions budding in its chest. It felt natural.
The adrenaline rush was short-lived. After the initial energy from the jump wore off, the chick’s beak began to point down. Shock surged through its mind as the chick began to descend rapidly. Its wings frantically flapped to no avail as it tried to return to a horizontal path. The chick began screaming for its mother and its siblings with terrified chirps as green ground filled its bird’s eyes.
The mother stirred from its rest, but could only hear a soft chirp in the distance. Her two chicks snuggled close to her, sleeping, and she drifted off unaware of her young one’s plight.
Gravity struck fear into the chick’s heart, its instincts knowing that it should be the conqueror with flight. A green was all it could see, and it closed its eyes and waited for the end.
Impact was soft, the chick found strangely enough. Death was swift for the baby robin, even comforting. Relieved to have escaped the worst, the chick opened its eyes to face the next life.
Brown of all hues replaced the green that had filled its vision. The chick chirped and slowly stood up on the soft surface. It felt like…feathers.
“Who?” asked a strange bird call the chick recognized. It sounded like the bird that lived inside its tree. The chick felt a light wind, nothing too abrasive, and hopped forward. A peek over the edge revealed the head of an owl as it flew near the ground. The chick let loose a deep chirp, thankful for its savior.
“Who?” the owl hooted as it flapped higher into the air. The owl repeatedly hooted with each flap until was two yards above the ground. Then it spread its wings into a smooth glide. “Who.”
“Tweet?” the chick replied, having felt the owl order something in its last hoot. The owl hooted again and flapped, stretching its wings out as far as it could go.
The chick observed the wings and realized the owl was trying to teach it! Unlike with its mother, the robin could see the individual feathers in complete clarity. Even though she was much larger, the chick had missed the more subtle aspects of flying. The key to flight was stability, not flapping as fast as possible.
The chick turned to the direction the owl faced and stretched its wings, preparing for flight once more. The owl hooted once more to ready the chick, receiving a confident tweet in return.
Once the chick felt the air lift under its wings, it lifted off. At first it glided like before, before it had plummeted down the two stories. This time, the chick gave one long, strong flap rather than the frantic flails it had made before.
The chick hesitantly opened its and widened them immediately. Rather than tilt downward, it had risen up! The chick gave an excited shrill and flapped again, rising into the air. Its muscles burned with fatigue, but the chick continued to descend the two stories to greet its mother. Observing carefully, the owl flew in circles around the chick to ensure it would not fall again.
The chick cheerfully flew back to the nest and tackled its mother. The robin shook her head and watched her baby fly in circles around her head before she noticed the owl hovering nearby.
“Tweet?” the mother asked, curious to know if the owl was responsible.
“Who.” The owl saluted and flew off, hearing the faint calls of his friend the pony.
“Whoa…” A young pegasus, wearing a helmet and riding a scooter, stared at the owl as it flew off. She had tried to scoot as fast as she could to save the baby robin, having sharp pegasus eyes, but had stood witness to Owlowiscious’s rescue instead.
Scootaloo turned her head as she heard the tell-tale wing flaps of her idol: Rainbow Dash.
“Hey squirt, watcha doing?” she asked, rubbing the starry-eyed filly on top of her mane. Scootaloo smiled and looked up.
“Hey, sis. I think I’m ready for those lessons.” Rainbow Dash froze for a moment, her mind racing. A slow, but sure grin spread on her face.
“You got it, kid.”
